What really slays me is that she enlisted non-mutual friends to help Pigpen out. It's amazing they helped at all considering what they encountered. Even if Pigpen wasn't, I sure hope the Middleman Friend (OP) was sufficiently grateful to that set of friends...

This as well. I'm happy to help my friends move, but not so much friends of friends. No one's ever asked me to do that though, but I'm pretty sure the first words out of my mouth would be, "How much beer are you going to buy me?"

And on seeing the house, "There isn't enough beer in the world that would make this worthwhile. Call me if you need a lift home!"

MsCynical

I wish I had. I helped a couple move twice and their apartments were awful. There was no animal waste, thankfully, but there were dirty dishes, old food in the fridge, used feminine products that hadn't quite made it to the trash can, clutter, clothes, and nothing packed. Clearly, I was an idiot

The first time I helped "Jack" and "Jill" move out of their 1 bedroom apartment, I didn't really know what I was in for. I knew they didn't clean much since the place was a roach infested firetrap, but they promised pizza and beer afterward. I was in college so that was the going rate for helping friends move. And I thought since surely they had moved before, they knew what needed to be done. Big mistake there. I knew Jack had started moving at 10 AM. So he said. Four other people were going to help them throughout the day and I arrived last. Jack didn't get a truck. His plan was to load up one large box, drive it two streets over to the new apartment, empty it, and bring it back, bucket-brigade style. When I got there at 6 PM, I honestly could not tell any work had been done, and not because the other four were being lazy. There was that much junk in that place and *nothing* I mean *nothing* was packed. Jill was nowhere to be found. At about 11 AM she had started to "feel sick" and was basically sitting in the other apartment reading while Jack and the other four (and now me) did all the work. We packed at least half a dozen 30 gallon garbage bags full of Jill's clothes (there were no boxes; I had to work with what was available). Someone thankfully went out and got more boxes for dishes and things like that. I washed their dishes and essentially packed their entire kitchen while everyone else wrangled with the clothes in the bedroom and the clutter in the living room. By the time we were finished, it was 11 PM. The stores were closed and they had not bought the beer beforehand. The pizza arrived about 11:30 and no one really felt like talking, especially not to Jill, who it seemed was feeling much better after the work was done. That pretty much ended Jack and Jill's friendship with two of the people who helped them move that day, and strained my friendship with them.

But as they say, "Fool me once, shame on you, fool me twice, shame on me." A couple of years later Jack and Jill were moving into a house. I made it clear to them that my help came with conditions - a) they would pack and b) they would rent a truck (the house was a 45-minute drive away). Jack assured me over and over that he realized the last time was a disaster and everything would be packed and ready to go this time. Myself and my BF were the only people from the prior move who agreed to help them the second time. Clearly everyone else was smarter than we were Jack did rent a U-haul. But they were not packed. This time he had three large boxes which were full, but that didn't begin to hold all their junk. There were again dirty dishes, food that needed to be thrown out, used feminine products that didn't make it to the trash can, and, as Jack and Jill had gotten married in the interim, a bedroom littered with condom wrappers. I was *this* close to walking out again when Jack told us that he had to be moved that day because the lease was up the next day (a Sunday) and he had to turn the truck in by 6 PM. BF, who was closer to Jack than I was, asked me to stay. So again I stuffed clothes in sacks, threw away any paper that was on the floor (I may have thrown out mail they needed but I figured if they didn't think it wasn't important enough to sort, it wasn't important enough for me to worry about), and this time, etiquette gods have mercy on me, I packed their dishes dirty. There was no time to wash them and I did tell Jack they were dirty so he'd know to unpack them quickly. And where was Jill during this fiasco? She was at the house taking down wallpaper. She had "weak arms" (so she claimed) and couldn't lift heavy things and thought she'd do more good at the house. At the end of the day she'd taken down exactly three square feet in one room. I think the day was summed up when a friend, who was throwing out paper, found a dustbuster covered in dust hidden behind the couches. Jack didn't remember even owning one. We got everything moved and the truck returned on time. They halfhearted offered to order us pizza, but I just wanted to go home. That pretty much ended everyone's friendship with them, except for my BF, who is just that kind of guy.

So, in short, I let them take advantage of me (and so did my other friends). They were my friends, and there are things you do for friends. Of course, at the end of it, they were not friends any more. But they had shown they didn't mind taking advantage of their friends (given the state of the place for the second move), so maybe it wasn't such a loss.

But, yeah, I really should have said "no" at least the second time and probably "heck no!"

MsCynical

Well, I imagine it would be harder to say no if your BF asked you to stay.

But if it had been me - I'd still say heck no, quite possibly laden with words not suitable for eHell.

Oh, I had plenty of those words, later, that I vented to my BF.

But I think this is where people get in trouble - they try to be nice. Other people take advantage of that. Especially for something like moving. Almost everyone I would guess has had the experience of moving and knows it goes so much easier with people to help. I've had a lot of people help me over the years, so I usually don't mind helping others. It's moving karma.

Jack and Jill alienated or outright lost at least five of their friends through these two moves, so maybe that's karma coming back to them.

I hope the LW who helped Pigpen move eventually grew enough of a spine to realize this person is only going to continue to take advantage of her generosity. The friendship (whatever there was of it) is already over; why continue to do nice things for someone who's clearly not a friend?

Jack and Jill alienated or outright lost at least five of their friends through these two moves, so maybe that's karma coming back to them.

That's not karma--that's consequences. Karma would be their new living place flooding or developing a roach problem. Consequences is what happens when your friends realize what freeloaders you are and decide they're better off without you.

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William wondered why he always disliked people who said "no offense meant." Maybe it was because they found it easier to say "no offense meant" than actually to refrain from giving offense.

The last time I helped someone move, I realized I was too old for that kind of rubbish.

Friend B moved 4 times in five years. I helped twice. The first time wasn't so bad, he was organized and ready to go. The second time he wasn't even packed. I was 45 at the time, and he was 20-something. He did have boxes, he just hadn't filled them. Or swept. Or cleaned. I told him never again.

My college roomie pulled a Jill. Having set up a time with my parents for them to come up with their station wagon, I figured it would be a cinch, wouldn't take more than a morning.

Parents pull up and ...roomie's not packed. She actually thought it would be okay to stay in her room, wrapping things in newspaper, while my parents (aged 47 and 58) carried her boxes down one flight of stairs and up the two flights to Apt #2.

The last time I helped someone move, I realized I was too old for that kind of rubbish.

Friend B moved 4 times in five years. I helped twice. The first time wasn't so bad, he was organized and ready to go. The second time he wasn't even packed. I was 45 at the time, and he was 20-something. He did have boxes, he just hadn't filled them. Or swept. Or cleaned. I told him never again.

My college roomie pulled a Jill. Having set up a time with my parents for them to come up with their station wagon, I figured it would be a cinch, wouldn't take more than a morning.

Parents pull up and ...roomie's not packed. She actually thought it would be okay to stay in her room, wrapping things in newspaper, while my parents (aged 47 and 58) carried her boxes down one flight of stairs and up the two flights to Apt #2.

I assume your parents disabused her of that notion?

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William wondered why he always disliked people who said "no offense meant." Maybe it was because they found it easier to say "no offense meant" than actually to refrain from giving offense.

I moved a 'Pigpen' of my own a few years back. It was a friend of mine, who we'll call Tina -- she's always been the kind of person who relies on other people to fix her life. You may know one of those kinds of people...seems like everything goes wrong for them (through bad choices), yet they seem so helpless that people always jump forward to help them. I've thankfully stopped doing that anymore for her...

Anyhoo, she was sharing an apartment with another girl, and decided to move out into a place of her own. She asked a bunch of friends to help, and asked if anyone had any old furniture to give her. We had a couch and some other odds and ends, but because we lived about 25 miles away, we weren't sure how to get them to her (none of us own trucks). She hit on the smart idea that my husband and I would rent the truck for the move, bring the furniture up at the same time, and she would pay us back for the rental. I think you can guess how that turned out.

The week before the move, I pestered her daily about whether or not she was packed up. I personally am one of those anal retentive types who buys a ton of boxes and starts packing a week or two before the move. Tina...is not that kind of person. We got to her apartment, and found almost nothing packed, and only a couple of boxes to put stuff in. So we all chip in and start packing things as best we can. I helped her with her bedroom -- it was honestly revolting. Everything was covered with this weird gray linty fuzz that coated the inside of my nose and throat as we shifted things around. There were dirty dishes lying all over the place. Dirty clothes everywhere. And it just stank. I guess if you never clean your room, it starts to smell like you. We did the best we could -- shoved stuff in to bags and the few boxes we had. It was just really gross, and really changed my perception of my friend.

Highlights of the move include:

- nothing to drink for those of us moving her stuff, despite it being summer in SoCal and hot as heck.- she didn't pay for our lunch (just seems like the standard, nice thing to do if someone is helping you move. Every other friend I've moved has done that, even if it's just pizza)- the rental truck almost got towed because we parked it behind her apartment in an alleyway, and then she insisted we go out to lunch. When I mentioned that maybe it was a bad idea to just leave the truck there while we're gone, she told us not to worry about it. When we got back from lunch, someone in the apartment complex behind hers was writing down our license plate #, and was about to call the tow company. My husband convinced them that we would be gone very soon, so they dropped it, thankfully.- I got the worst sinus infection of my life from the nasty gray stuff in her room.- she never paid us for the rental truck.

Our parents were kind enough to help us move our house, and my DH's office twice.

My Dad helps with the actual hauling, my Mom has put down shelf paper for me (which is wonderful, cause I'd never get around to it myself. His dad lends us his truck with the tailgate lift, the dolly, and these next gizmos he has for moving vending machines, that make the fridge, and washer and dryer a real breeze to move. He also helps coordinate the moving of the large items. He's got a bad back and we wouldn't let him lift if he tried it.

In return we've tried to be reasonably organized, fully ready to go, buy both lunch and dinner, and try to have a variety of beverages (including some alcohol) on hand. And, not criticize in any way how they move or don't move anything.

I helped some friends move some large items from their house to their garage when they redecorated, and then back when they were finished. Not only did they feed us, they were profuse with their thanks and even gave us thank-you notes. Plus, they'd already moved 98% of the smaller items to the garage before the rest of us came over, so all that was left were the things they hadn't been able to move themselves. The husband in this case is elderly, but he was right in there with us youngsters moving what he could.

Honestly--and this may sound very shallow--I don't think I could be friends with someone who was so unclean (well, if it was due only to laziness, not some mental problem). Smells really, really get to me, and when your house is that filthy with pet waste, the smell lingers in your hair and clothing. Even if she found a way to get rid of the smell when she was out of the house, I'd never be able to go visit her in her home. If I knew she had some kind of problem that contributed to the filth, I'd try to help her, but in this case it just sounds like extreme laziness.

I just can't imagine that a house could get to the point described in the OP without the homeowner/dweller being mentally ill. My grandmother's house was pretty much exactly as the house described in the OP (with the addition of massive amounts of old papers, magazines, plastic bags etc., as well as rat feces) but she was mentally ill. I can see lots of clutter and unwashed dishes and laundry, but animal waste...I can't see a sane person letting that happen. But I suppose it could.

I concur with the likelihood of a mental condition. I HAVE cleaned out 2 houses and 1 apartment that were in that state (yes, animal feces, live rodents, and all) and in both cases they had a serious mental illness.

I know a couple whose house was like that and they are not mentally ill. Just really lazy. Apparently you can't smell it if you live in it... I refused to visit and hardly seem them at all now. Vile. Oh and they offerd I could get ready on my wedding day in their house. My sides are still splitting from the laughing I had to do. Privately of course

Physiologically, that's true. Your olfactory receptors eventually treat constant smells as non-existent - probably, because there's no point from a survival standpoint in detecting odours that don't change.

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My cousin's memoir of love and loneliness while raising a child with multiple disabilities will be out on Amazon soon! Know the Night, by Maria Mutch, has been called "full of hope, light, and companionship for surviving the small hours of the night."

Physiologically, that's true. Your olfactory receptors eventually treat constant smells as non-existent - probably, because there's no point from a survival standpoint in detecting odours that don't change.

This actually makes me a little paranoid. Our house was a trash-out. The former occupants left a portion of their back rent and cleared out in the middle of the night, leaving everything behind, including pet waste, a filthy kitchen, and a refrigerator full of food. We had to do extensive cleaning before we could move anything in. I spent four hours cleaning just the refrigerator. And it was months before I could even make a sandwich in the kitchen without wiping the counter six times (I am nothing even close to a germophobe). Anyway, some of the smells lingered; the house was clean, but some smells were persistent. They have now faded, but I often wonder if they've really faded, or if I just can't smell them anymore. Anytime we're gone for a few days, I make sure I take a really big whiff upon walking in the door. I haven't smelled anything in a while, but I'm still not reassured.

Physiologically, that's true. Your olfactory receptors eventually treat constant smells as non-existent - probably, because there's no point from a survival standpoint in detecting odours that don't change.

This actually makes me a little paranoid. Our house was a trash-out. The former occupants left a portion of their back rent and cleared out in the middle of the night, leaving everything behind, including pet waste, a filthy kitchen, and a refrigerator full of food. We had to do extensive cleaning before we could move anything in. I spent four hours cleaning just the refrigerator. And it was months before I could even make a sandwich in the kitchen without wiping the counter six times (I am nothing even close to a germophobe). Anyway, some of the smells lingered; the house was clean, but some smells were persistent. They have now faded, but I often wonder if they've really faded, or if I just can't smell them anymore. Anytime we're gone for a few days, I make sure I take a really big whiff upon walking in the door. I haven't smelled anything in a while, but I'm still not reassured.

When I took Leo the cat in he was an unneutered male. He used the litterbox and I wouldn't smell anything. Then I would go to work and come home and oh my god! I have never smelled anything so awful in my life. Now I knew what people meant when they said a house smelled like cat. After about 10 minutes I couldn't smell anything anymore. So if you leave for a while and come back and smell nothing you are probably fine. If you really want to check get a good friend to come and smell - one who will truthfully tell you if your house really smells and not try to spare your feelings.

It's also why, unfortunately, some people apply perfume until they reek. They think that the first application has worn off, when it's just that *they* can't smell it anymore.

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My cousin's memoir of love and loneliness while raising a child with multiple disabilities will be out on Amazon soon! Know the Night, by Maria Mutch, has been called "full of hope, light, and companionship for surviving the small hours of the night."